


Five New Year’s Eves and One New Year Day (or: The New Year's Day Rebellion)

by Leandra



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bottom Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Exhibitionism, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Geek Love, Huddling For Warmth, Idiots in Love, M/M, Merlin is a Little Shit, New Year's Eve, New Year's Fluff, New Year's Kiss, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Shower Sex, Snogging, five times and one fic, no really, omg so many tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28447641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leandra/pseuds/Leandra
Summary: Merlin and Arthur don't get off on a good start when they first meet at Morgana's posh New Year's party: A literally eyeopening game of Truth or Dare later, they both are glad they won't be seeing each other again.Until next year, that is. And the year after that...*-*My New Year's spin on "Fives Times plus one", featuring more geeky references than anyone might be able to spot and two idiots in love.I started this as a pinch-hit but as the original poster came to the rescue and I already had the idea for the story, I gift this to all of you! Happy New Year!
Relationships: Elena/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Elena/Gwaine (Merlin), Gwen/Lancelot (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 62
Kudos: 243
Collections: Merlin Holidays 2020





	1. New Year #1 - Morgana’s posh party: Where someone gets naked

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to:  
> \- Beri, thanks so much for the quick and very thorough beta! Your suggestions were invaluable!  
> \- my s.o. - glad you didn't have so much work with this one, but thx for giving me the time to write, like always.

_#1. Merlin_

Merlin had planned to return home for New Year’s, to spend his time with his mother and visit friends (most importantly, Will), but his plans had been derailed last minute when his mother’s boyfriend had gotten ill with the flu. Hunith had asked him to stay in London instead of returning to Cornwall for the rest of the holidays and once more reminded him to get vaccinated as soon as possible. 

That’s how Merlin found himself on New Year’s Eve accompanying Gwen to Morgana Pendragon’s party. Gwen had met Morgana in one of her gender theory classes and they had hit it off immediately despite, or maybe because of, their hugely different backgrounds. Gwen was the daughter of a hardworking, single mechanic, while Morgana’s father was none other than business tycoon, Uther Pendragon; who owned one of the biggest life insurance companies in the country and probably spent more money in a fortnight than Gwen’s father could possibly earn all his life. 

Fortified with that knowledge, Merlin had been expecting that Morgana’s house would be extraordinary, but he hadn’t thought it would be that lavish: The detached townhouse in Kensington was frankly ridiculous, looking positively intimidating from the outside with an overly designed mix of exposed, 19th century brick work and gleaming glass and steel additions. When Gwen rang the bell, it wasn’t Morgana who opened the door but a mousy looking man in what appeared to be a modern version of a livreè. 

“You didn’t tell me it would be that posh!” Merlin hissed to Gwen as he took off his shabby army coat in the cloakroom, before following the man who had opened the door (Merlin decided to call him a butler) further into the house. 

“Relax,” Gwen whispered back just as sotto voce, brushing down her dress with fingers that only shook slightly with nervousness. 

Just as soon as they stepped into the open plan downstairs area, Morgana, clad in an off-white pantsuit that made Merlin all the more aware of his casual jeans and t-shirt, rushed forward as if she had been waiting for them, throwing herself at Gwen with a small squeal. 

“I’m so happy you came!” she said, hugging Gwen fiercely to her chest, making the smaller girl exhale a wheezing huff and sway on her feet. Morgana let go just as impulsively, her eyes flickering towards Merlin, raking him up and down as if she was taking stock of him. Merlin bit his lip, pretty sure he would be found lacking - he wasn’t graceful nor handsome nor impeccably dressed like herself - but if she found him inadequate, she didn’t say so, instead giving him a dazzling smile. 

“And you are?” she asked cheerfully, raising her perfectly trimmed eyebrows in question.

Merlin cleared his throat and tried not to gape at her, because he had heard of Morgana extensively, considering Gwen seemed to be unable to shut up about the other girl, but he had never met her. She sure was a sight, even if girls didn’t do it for him. With her elegant white pantsuit and her sleek, swishy ponytail, she looked more like a supermodel than a 20-year old social studies major. Adding to her appearance, she carried herself with an air of confidence that told volumes about how she was used to owning the attention of a room full of people.

“I’m Merlin,” he said, surprised that his voice came out clear and unflustered. 

“Oh yes, the roommate!” Morgana said happily, clapping her hands together and pulling him into a crushing hug as well, as if they were old friends who hadn’t seen each other in a long time. She smelled nice, like sandalwood, and Merlin tried not to appear awkward. 

“His plans for New Year’s fell through,” Gwen offered, almost like an apology. 

“That’s marvelous for us, isn’t it?” Morgana countered and let Merlin go, before grinning and reaching for Gwen’s hand, looping their arms together. 

“Looks like that one didn’t get the memo about the dress code,” someone sneered contemptuously from behind Morgana.The owner of the haughty voice stepped past her and into view, revealing himself to be a young, blond man in an evening suit, looking every bit as posh and sophisticated as Morgana, but with a haughty air about him that raised Merlin’s hackles. His gaze briefly slipped over Gwen, before he looked at Merlin, his mouth curling into a condescending smirk. 

“It’s a cocktail party, not ComicCon,” he said superciliously, making his distaste at Merlin’s Iron Man shirt crystal clear.

“Arthur, behave!” Morgana snapped, glaring at him. “They are my guests and you’re being an arse.” 

Arthur raised his eyebrows at her, unimpressed. “I just wanted to make sure he got the right party,” he said mockingly.

“I’m sorry for my half-brother,” Morgana said sweetly, her eyes glaring daggers. “It’s hard being related to him, even if we only share half of the gene pool.” 

Arthur rolled his eyes and, with a last dismissive glance at Merlin’s casual outfit, sauntered off towards the back of the room, where a couple of other guests had accumulated at the buffet, looking bored and stiff in their suits and gowns. 

“What a prat,” Merlin muttered, unable to help himself, staring after Arthur with a churning feeling in his guts. That’s why he hadn’t wanted to come in the first place: snooty pricks like Arthur Pendragon who thought they owned the world. 

Morgana laughed loudly at his words. “He secretly thinks your t-shirt is awesome, but he wouldn’t admit it, not even if his uncomfortable tie strangles him.”

“If the tie doesn’t do the job before the night is over, I’m absolutely willing to help it out,” Merlin said, watching with narrowed eyes as, across the room, Arthur poured himself a drink, chatting to a bloke with long, wavy hair. Arthur took a sip from his glass, then looked back over his shoulder to where they were standing, his mouth twisting into a smirk. 

Their staring match was interrupted by Morgana, who clapped Merlin’s shoulder to get his attention. “How about I get you something to drink and we forget about sourpuss?” 

Gwen giggled. “Oh, definitely! Right, Merlin?” 

Merlin bit his lip, finally managing to look away from Arthur, who definitely had rubbed him the wrong way and managed to immediately highlight his insecurity about being out of place at the party. “Right,” he said tersely. 

Two hours later, Merlin was bored out of his mind. It wasn’t even midnight, but it was by far one of the dullest parties Merlin had ever been too. It wasn’t as if nothing happened, but the atmosphere was very stiff and formal, like a couple of children attempting to play grown-ups, and in a way it was - Morgana and Arthur just seemed to have copied parties they must have been to as kids.

It didn’t get better with more alcohol intake, either. If possible, it got worse, because someone had the marvellous idea to spice up the sluggish evening by playing party games. Merlin, who had no intention to partake, preferred to stay in the background, watching the games from a spot by the window, where he had withdrawn to quietly nurse his drink. 

He had talked to some of the other party guests briefly, but hadn’t really connected with any of them, feeling only superficially interested in getting to know them. Most of them seemed to come from fairly upper class families and he just couldn’t relate to their conversations, which seemed to consist mostly of their rather expensive plans for the rest of the holidays. Merlin had never been able to afford going skiing and flying abroad to Switzerland or Austria to do so seemed even more unthinkable. Meanwhile, Gwen barely left Morgana’s side, the two of them almost joined at the hip, laughing mostly about each other’s jokes. 

From his secluded spot in the corner of the room, Merlin was eyeing the other party guests, sipping his third drink slowly. Some guests were dancing awkwardly to music, some were lounging around on the sofa by the drinks table where Arthur Pendragon held court, loudly and boisterously leading a game of Truth or Dare. 

“Dare,” a thin, spotty teen with a nervous expression on his face said bravely. 

“I dare you…,” Arthur said, pausing for good effect, a mischievous grin playing around his lips, “to get naked and stay like that for at least 10 minutes!” 

A chorus of uproarious laughter followed his announcement, while the thin teen blanched visibly, shifting from one foot to the other, cringing. 

“Uhmmm… I… I don’t…” he stammered, squirming in his much too big, navy suit.

“Oh, come on!” Arthur crowed gleefully, “don’t tell me you’re afraid!” More chortling laughter from his friends followed his outburst, while the boy bit his lip, looking helplessly from one person to the next, trying to find someone to protest Arthur’s dare. 

“Can’t I do Truth instead?” the boy whined, visibly distressed by the prospect of having to undress in front of a room of people. 

“Dare,” a pretty, blonde girl leaning heavily on Arthur’s arm said viciously, “you chose “Dare”.”

Her words were picked up, a chorus of “Dare”, “Dare”, “Dare” that got louder, the teen fidgeting on the spot. He looked like he was about to faint, his skin sickly pale, drained from all colour, his limbs trembling. 

“You’d better start getting naked, Morris,” Arthur suggested with schadenfreude, grinning widely and crossing his arms over his chest as he stared the smaller boy down.

Merlin found himself putting down his drink on the window sill and moving before he knew he would do it. 

“That’s enough,” he said sharply, stepping in between Arthur and Morris. “You had your fun, now back off. He doesn’t want to do it.” 

Merlin watched as a look of puzzlement came over Arthur’s features, before his eyes blazed with delight. 

“Oh, you are mistaken, I haven’t had my fun yet,” Arthur said snottily, eying Merlin with even more disdain than earlier. 

Merlin rolled his eyes, wondering how one managed to go through life with so much self-righteousness and contempt for other people’s feelings. An idea came to him, to put Arthur Pendragon in his place and spare Morris the embarrassment, and he took a deep breath, throwing himself in the deep end like he was prone to do, quite literally. 

“It must be difficult needing to see another naked man so much. I’m sorry you’re too scared to look up gay porn on the internet,” Merlin said mock-sweetly, his words earning a couple of surprised snickers from those gathered around. 

“Now, wait-” Arthur said, his voice lacking any humour or teasing now, but he got interrupted when Merlin reached for the neck of his t-shirt and kept talking over his protest. 

“You’re lucky I feel generous tonight.” He pulled off his shirt with both hands, tossing it snappishly at Arthur’s chest, before dropping his hands to his fly. There was a collective gasp, but Merlin didn’t pay it any mind, enjoying the look of absolute startlement on Arthur’s admittedly handsome face. He wasn’t looking so haughty now, he thought with satisfaction, inwardly steeling himself for his next course of action. As a competitive swimmer he was basically naked in front of a lot of people on a regular basis - this wouldn’t be so very different from standing around in tiny speedos at a swimming competition. Or so Merlin told himself. 

“Also, if I remember correctly, you didn’t like my clothes very much earlier. But, hey! That can be helped.” He brushed down his jeans together with his underwear to another shocked sound from the bystanders, before someone wolf-whistled, making a couple of people titter nervously. Merlin struggled with his trouser legs, stepping on the fabric to pull off his jeans the rest of the way, before flinging them at Arthur’s feet and kicking his shoes aside until he was standing in the middle of the Pendragon’s spacious living room in nothing but his mismatched socks. 

In front of him, Arthur was looking wide-eyed and out of his depth, apparently struck speechless. It was a good look on him, Merlin thought with delight. “Now then, there you have it,” he said, spreading out his hands, indicating his undressed state, “someone is naked. I hope you’re happy.” He held Arthur’s gaze, prepared for anything, really, even a punch, or at least a homophobic slur, but when nothing came and Arthur still gaped like a fish, Merlin clapped a hand on Morris’ shoulder, grinning when the other boy flinched. 

“Oh, wow, all that getting naked business is really making me hungry,” he announced, then decided to extricate himself from the situation before someone could really throw a punch, making his way towards the kitchen on the other side of the room. There was more stunned silence behind him, their gazes prickling on his skin, before the whispering began. 

Merlin heaved a sigh and pushed open the swing door towards the kitchen, relieved when it fell shut behind him. He was just glad he would never need to see any of the people in the room again. Well, maybe Morgana. He could handle Morgana, he thought, ignoring the startled looks from three girls huddled in the corner, talking secretly between themselves. He gave them a slight wave, before making for the fridge to see if there was anything edible to be had in here that wasn’t the assortment of crips and salt crackers from the buffet. 

*-*   
_#1. Arthur_

 _What the fuck?_ Arthur thought, looking after the bloke who just crashed their Truth or Dare game and insulted Arthur in front of all his friends. _What the fuck?_ he thought again, staring at the way lean muscles shifted underneath the other boy’s skin. The boy, who had so skillfully insulted him, looked scrawny in his clothes, but he was in fact proportionally muscled with a tapered waist and surprisingly broad shoulders, his arms and legs long and wiry. Blushing, Arthur realised he had been staring at the bloke’s pretty, shapely bum and his pale, smooth skin, and he scowled at himself for noticing that he looked rather handsome walking away like that. _What the fuck_ , Arthur thought for the third time, because he never thought these kinds of things about other men. Never.

Aware that his friends were waiting for him to say something, he cleared his throat and ripped his gaze away from the naked bloke and turned back towards Morris, who was looking wide-eyed and startled and out of his depth - Arthur could relate. 

Arthur pasted on a wide grin and punched Morris lightly in the shoulder, making the other boy sway and look at him with wariness. “Morris, aren’t you glad there was a knight in shining nothing coming to your rescue,” Arthur said to the guffawing of the bystanders. He had long ago learned to deflect personal attacks and brush them off like it was nothing, but inside, now that the first bafflement ebbed away, he was seething. The things the bloke had jokingly accused him off...

Nobody wanted to keep playing afterwards because everybody was talking about the stranger who got naked, and Arthur poured himself another drink, before deciding he couldn’t let the humiliation sit like that. He gripped his tumbler tightly and crossed the living room to the kitchen, nearly colliding with three of Morgana’s school friends, who were looking scandalised and red-faced. Arthur had a good guess why they were practically fleeing the kitchen. 

When he stepped through the swing door, the bloke from before was standing in front of the open fridge, torso half-buried inside as he searched through the contents, still just as naked except for his socks, one of which featured The Hulk and the other showing a very washed out Legend of Zelda logo. At least they were both greenish, Arthur thought with a frown, then cleared his throat. 

The boy startled, jerking as he attempted to draw back, before he hit his head on a shelf, making glasses rattle together. 

“Ouch,” he hissed, reaching up to rub his head, slowly turning around. “Oh, it’s you,” he said calmly, like it wasn’t a surprise that Arthur had followed him. He had a glass of olives in his hand which he gingerly placed down on the counter, pushing the fridge shut with his foot, before leaning his hip against the kitchen drawers and crossing his ankles. 

“Who the fuck are you?” it burst out of Arthur. 

“Oh,” the other boy said again, then stuck out his hand in a friendly gesture, like he hadn’t ridiculed Arthur just earlier in front of his friends at his own party and like he wasn’t completely starkers standing around Arthur’s kitchen. “I’m Merlin,” he said, friendly enough. 

Arthur purposefully ignored the offered hand and sent him an unimpressed glare. “I can’t remember inviting you.” 

“I came here with Gwen,” Merlin said, frowning a bit, then dropping his outstretched hand to his thigh. The motion pulled Arthur’s gaze downward to where Merlin’s hand - large, with long, elegant fingers - was resting next to his cock, which lay comfortably and unperturbed, in its nest of dark curls. It was a good-looking cock, Arthur thought with something akin to jealousy, then flushed, angry with himself. He wasn’t noticing other people’s cocks, not even if they were handsome looking - which, really, was sort of ridiculous, because in Arthur’s opinion soft cocks usually looked stupid, even his own. Like wrinkled, discoloured snakes. 

He ripped his gaze away, managing to latch onto Merlin’s face instead, who was looking thoughtful.

“You can’t talk to me like that, in my own house, at my own party,” Arthur said, his words coming out more angrily than he had anticipated. 

In front of him, Merlin shrugged, unimpressed, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You deserved it for being a prat,” he said lightly, studying Arthur with a smirk. 

“Seriously,” Arthur growled exasperated, “what is wrong with you? Do you want me to punch you?” 

Merlin’s nose wrinkled in disbelief. “For what’s wrong: I’m peckish, and I get snappish when I’m hungry. About that punch…” he shrugged, tilting his head as if to assess Arthur’s willingness to really strike out, “are you telling me you’re actually willing to grapple with a naked man?” 

“You are impossible,” Arthur muttered. “I can’t tell if you’re brave or just really stupid.” 

Merlin grinned, a smirk that tugged on his plush lips and crinkled his eyes with mirth. “I like to think it’s a little of both,” he said, then uncrossed his arms and straightened from his slouched posture. “Now, if you’ve finished with that not really threatening confrontation, I’d love to go back to looking through your fridge. For this being such a posh party, you really held out on the food.” 

He snatched the glass of olives he had put down on the counter earlier and screwed it open, fishing around in it with his fingers, before popping an olive into his mouth. “Olive?” he asked with a faux-innocent air, holding out the open glass towards Arthur. 

“You know what?” Arthur asked rhetorically, “Make yourself at home.” He raked a hand through his hair, gave one last exasperated look at Merlin and turned on his heel. He had the sudden urge to go find Vivian and see if she was up for a make-out session or maybe even a fuck. Anything that would distract him from this irritating person, who stood around in his kitchen completely naked and helped himself to his food.


	2. New Year #2 - Gwaine’s drunken mistake party: Where someone gets kissed

_#2. Arthur_

Gwaine’s party was shaping up to be mostly dominated by an overabundance of booze and loud music. The tiny apartment Gwaine shared with his friend, Percival, was packed with people, and every few minutes, more people seemed to arrive, pushing through the throng of dancers in the living room or fighting for an empty cup or glass to fill up with the very potent punch Percival’s girlfriend had concocted in the kitchen and which mostly consisted of cheap rum and little else. 

Arthur was sweating, despite having gotten rid of his jumper about half an hour ago. It was warm in the tiny apartment, and it was getting more so, the more people arrived. Next to him, Gwaine was already pretty drunk, swaying unsteadily on the spot as he talked to an equally intoxicated girl with long, red hair flowing freely over her shoulders. Arthur, who hadn’t been following their conversation because he already felt like a third wheel considering they were flirting spectacularly, decided to get more punch and made for the sideboard, braving the crazy fray of dancers in the middle of the room. He made it - more or less without any serious injuries but a couple of new bruises - towards the other side of the room and filled up his chipped mug, refusing to be drawn into a conversation by the desperate girl hovering near the bowl like a harpy, before making his way carefully back towards Gwaine. It was better being a third wheel than standing around on his own or - God forbid! - talk to the girl with the desperate eyes waiting to make a romantic connection.

He had almost made it back unscathed, when someone smacked into him hard, making him spill his drink down the front of his shirt. 

“Shit, can’t you be careful, you oaf!” he hissed, holding the mug away from himself. When he looked up to glare at whoever had run into him, his eyes grew wide. 

“Oh God, it’s you!” he exclaimed, surprised to see the bloke from last year, the one who had gotten naked, tossed his clothes in Arthur’s face and then raided his fridge, stood in front of him, a curious expression on his face. 

“Posh prat!” Merlin, because that was his name, Arthur remembered, said excitedly, and grinned widely. 

“Don’t call me that!”

Merlin tilted his head, bit his lip and smiled. “What do you want me to call you instead?” he asked, and it sounded vaguely dirty. Or maybe Arthur just thought it sounded dirty because even though Merlin was perfectly dressed - if one considered jeans and a t-shirt to be perfect - he could very clearly remember how Merlin had looked last year underneath his geeky clothes. The impact of Merlin’s naked skin had been lasting, if not to say transformative, a fact that maybe was a bit of a sore spot.

“My name is Arthur,” Arthur said pissily and indicated his soaked torso, “and you owe me a shirt!”

“You just want me to get naked again, admit it,” Merlin grinned cheekily and Arthur exhaled a long-suffering sigh of indignation, because really. Was the idiot flirting with him now or did he just want to piss him off?

“You think too highly of your questionable allure,” Arthur muttered, rolling his eyes and pulling his soaked shirt away from his abs, grimacing at the way the lukewarm liquid quickly cooled on his skin. 

Merlin just quirked his lips and reached for the hemline of his shirt, which - Arthur noted now that he looked at it - featured Leia Organa with a Bowie-eske Rebel, Rebel lettering. 

“Fuck, will you stop,” Arthur muttered, embarrassed, reaching out to still Merlin’s hands, trying to not look at where Merlin’s shirt had risen up to reveal a pale flash of stomach and an enticing lucky trail. He swallowed against the unexpected dryness in his mouth, feeling nervous and unhinged all of a sudden. 

When Merlin dropped his hands away, he looked tousled and amused, the curls of his hair dishevelled, his blue eyes twinkling with laughter. “I would have totally given you my shirt. It’s a great shirt, too.” 

Arthur could agree to that, but he would bite his own tongue off before admitting that Merlin’s shirt was indeed all kinds of geeky perfection.

“What are you, some kind of exhibitionist?” he said instead, putting as much of a sneer into his words as he dared.

Merlin snickered, then shrugged. “I’m a swimmer. I’m kind of semi-naked a lot in front of other people. I just don’t mind.” He paused, looking Arthur up and down like he was contemplating him. “Also, you’re kind of cute when you look harassed,” he concluded, and damn, now he was really flirting with him.

“I’m not… I’m…” Arthur spluttered, then decided to give up. How was it that talking to Merlin was just so very, very frustrating? He blushed fiercely, feeling the tips of his ears go red, and decided that evasion was the way to go. “Keep your shirt!” he said shortly, then stepped around Merlin and pushed past the other dancers, back towards where Gwaine was still talking to the red haired girl. 

“Naked Guy is here!” he hissed, digging his elbow deeply into Gwaine’s side, causing Gwaine to interrupt himself with a yelp. 

To Gwaine’s credit, because he was foremost Arthur’s friend, he didn’t immediately go back to his conversation, but showed real interest in Arthur’s plight. “Who?” Gwaine slurred, his eyes unfocused as he swayed, leaning heavily into Arthur.

“The bloke who got naked last year at my party!”

“Oh!” A grin stole on Gwaine’s face and he chortled. “You mean Merlin! Yes! Merlin is awesome.” 

“Since when do you even know him!”

“Since your party, of course! How could I not befriend someone so fearless! - Also, he’s pretty hot,” Gwaine added thoughtfully. 

“Ugh,” Arthur groaned disdainfully, then drained the last, measly dregs that had remained in his mug after the collision.

_#2. Merlin_

It was well after 4 a.m. and Merlin was maybe a little drunk. Gwaine’s party definitely had lots of alcohol (and enough food to sustain Merlin’s drinking throughout the night), but despite having been a rousing success, it was slowly winding down now. It was late enough though that Merlin decided to stick around to catch an early train and save himself the taxi money. Merlin plopped down on a free seat on the couch, sighing when he stretched out his long legs. He’d been dancing or standing around all evening and it felt good to sink into something soft and get off his legs for a bit.

“Naked guy,” someone said from next to him, their words slurred. Merlin turned his head and blearily looked at the person slumped on the couch next to him. He hadn’t recognised him at first, because he was wearing a red hoodie and had pulled the hood over his blond hair. 

“Posh prat,” he said in greeting, and Arthur giggled, a charming, sloshed little sound. 

“Oh wonder, you’re still wearing your shirt,” Arthur observed, waving around with his hand in the general direction of Merlin’s torso, before he let it drop back down into his lap like his arm was weighing a ton. 

“Disappointed?” Merlin asked, turning on the couch to take in the way Arthur was sprawled so carelessly into the cushions, his legs splayed wide. 

Arthur looked more relaxed than he had last seen him and definitely not at all sober, his face flushed, his lips shiny and wet. It was a good look on him, in any case an improvement to Arthur’s pissy, haughty face. “A little,” he said, before dissolving into snickers, like he couldn’t believe he had said that. 

Merlin grinned and watched the disarming way in which Arthur’s body shook. “I thought you didn’t like me taking off my shirt.” 

“Oh, I don’t like you in general. With or without shirt,” Arthur replied, then added, his face twisting into an adorable frown, “But I guess I like you better without your shirt.” 

It was Merlin’s turn to snort out a surprised guffaw. They were silent for a bit and Arthur brushed back his hoodie, revealing a horrible case of bedhead, his blond strands sticking up every which way making Merlin itch to touch Arthur’s hair and possibly thread his fingers through it. And tug. Definitely tug. Until Arthur’s eyes rolled back in his head. 

“I’m getting another beer,” Arthur announced, then pushed himself up onto his feet, only to sway dangerously on the spot. He made a step, stumbled and flopped back down on the couch, miscalculating and all but landing on Merlin. 

“Uff,” Merlin huffed when the wind was knocked out of him, then groaned when Arthur struggled to get up from his lap and dug an elbow into his side. 

“Whoops,” Arthur said, attempting to push himself up by driving the heel of his hand into Merlin’s groin area. 

“Ow, if you absolutely must fondle me, can’t you at least be moderately talented about it?” Merlin grumbled, trying to push Arthur away, but only succeeding in making Arthur squirm in his lap and snort with laughter. 

“I’m not fondling you, you’re fondling me,” Arthur protested. “Get your hands off me, it tickles!” 

It was only then that Merlin became aware how his palm was resting against Arthur’s flank, touching bare skin where Arthur’s hoodie had been pushed up. “Not on purpose!” he said, pulling his hand away. With a sigh, Arthur slumped against him, all the fight draining out of him. He was heavy, God, he was really heavy, a dead weight of tall, muscular young man, and Merlin shifted, trying to dislodge him and put him back onto the couch next to him. 

“Your eyelashes are really pretty,” Arthur muttered from where his head was lolling against Merlin’s shoulder. “And so are your cheekbones. Cheek… bones,” he giggled, then reached out and trailed a finger from Merlin’s ear over his cheek to his mouth. “What a silly word. Cheek… bone.”

“Fuck, you are really, really drunk, aren’t you?” Merlin asked exasperatedly, glancing down at Arthur’s upturned face with its ruddy splotches staining his cheeks, his mouth slightly hanging open, as if he was so relaxed, he couldn’t be bothered to put his facial muscles to use. Damn, but he was gorgeous looking even completely intoxicated and Merlin must be pretty sloshed himself if he was considering pressing their mouths together, mustn't he? 

“Mouth,” Arthur said softly, and stared at him from underneath heavy-lidded eyes. “Your mouth is pretty too.” He trailed his finger softly over Merlin’s bottom lip, smiling when Merlin sucked in a startled gasp. “I mean, like the rest of you, is too, so why shouldn’t your mouth be pretty, also…” he mused, dipping his index finger between Merlin’s parted lips. He tasted like salt and the rum punch, and Merlin groaned, unconsciously letting his tongue dart out to tease at the digit. 

“Whoa,” Arthur said somewhat dumbly, and so what if the prat didn’t have one single working braincell, Merlin thought desperately. It wasn’t like his brain was working any better, considering all that it was suggesting, and shutting Arthur up seemed like such a brilliant idea right now. Arthur’s finger slipped from his mouth and Arthur looked at him with a dumbstruck expression on his face, his eyes wide, lips still slackly parted. Merlin watched as, unconsciously, Arthur’s tongue licked over his full bottom lip, leaving it wet and looking unfairly enticing. 

Merlin was about to lean forward, when Arthur met him halfway, smashing his lips against his mouth. Their noses collided painfully, then their teeth clashed and it should have been over right there, but neither drew back, they just rearranged their faces, stubbornly, pressing forward. Their persistence - or maybe drunken stupor - paid off, because all of a sudden their mouths slotted together perfectly, like two jagged parts finally finding their match. 

Against Merlin’s lips, Arthur hummed a contented, soft sound, and lifted his hand to grab Merlin’s shoulder tightly, before winding his fingers into the hair at the nape of Merlin’s neck. With a sigh of annoyed surrender - the kind which knew it was doing a stupid thing but was unable to change anything about what was happening - Merlin deepened the kiss, surprised when Arthur’s lips parted readily between his, allowing him to lick into his mouth and curl his tongue around Arthur’s. 

“Mhmmm-hmmm,” Arthur moaned encouragingly, his words vibrating curiously over Merlin’s tongue and Merlin shifted on the couch, toppling them over into the soft cushions until Arthur was splayed out beneath him. It was even better like that with Arthur’s body like a warm furnace beneath him and he pressed down with his weight, cupping the sides of Arthur’s face as he angled his head to lap at Arthur’s bottom lip. 

One of Arthur’s hands clutched his hair, while the other dragged sharp nails down his side before burying underneath his t-shirt. “Hell, yeah,” Arthur gasped beneath him, all but groping his lower back, kissing him back enthusiastically and sloppily. 

_Hell, yeah_ , Merlin echoed silently, because Arthur felt perfect underneath him and who would have suspected that the clotpole was so good at kissing? This was infinitely more preferable than wasting time pissily and aggressively flirting with each other. So what if Arthur was a prat? Merlin was too drunk to care. There wouldn’t be any consequences, because they were both sloshed and horny and would likely not remember a lot in the morning. 

And when Arthur slid his other hand beneath his shirt and then pushed both hands underneath the waistband of Merlin’s jeans to grip his arse and pull him closer, Merlin decided to give up thinking all together in favour of dry-humping Arthur into the couch.


	3. New Year #3: Gwen and Merlin’s fabulous party: Where someone gets fucked

_#3. Merlin_

Merlin and Gwen had planned their New Year’s party for months, or so it seemed. They had had so much fun thinking about every little detail that it had bordered on obsession, but the end result was one they were both rather satisfied with. The guest list wasn’t too large and carefully selected without any potential for crazy party crashers. They had prepared an abundance of hearty food and snacks and filled the bathtub with ice-water and booze, stocking their pantry so they wouldn’t run out no matter what happened. In the living room, they had pushed most of the furniture aside to create a free open space and Merlin’s friend, Will, was providing the music and acting as DJ for the night. They had made a list of what games to play and what games to avoid and decorated the kitchen, living room and entry hall with floating silver balloons. 

Between the two of them, they had anticipated everything, or so Merlin thought. What he hadn’t prepared for was that when he opened the door to invite Lance into the apartment - a bloke Gwen had a major crush on and from what Gwen had told him about Lance’s reaction to the party invitation it might just be mutual - a well-known surprise guest stood next to him on their doormat. 

“Naked guy,” Arthur said, sounding flummoxed, his eyes darting from Merlin to Lance to the number on the door, then back to settle on Merlin. “What are you doing here?” 

Merlin scowled, taking in Arthur’s startled expression. “I live here,” he said, watching with narrowed eyes as Arthur turned to Lance and looked at him with confusion. 

“I thought you said we were going to that girl’s party… the one you have a crush on?” 

Lance blushed and shifted on his feet. “Well, yes, I mean-” 

“I’m Gwen’s roommate,” Merlin said helpfully, interrupting Lance’s stammering. It was ridiculous that Lance was thinking anyone couldn’t spot his major adoration for Gwen from five miles away. The two of them were actually rather horrible in their infatuation and had been slinking around each other for weeks. Merlin really hoped that the party tonight would be a turning point, because there were just so many nights he could listen to Gwen wax poetically about Lance’s dark hair and dark eyes and engaging smile, before he snapped. 

Arthur huffed, looking like he had swallowed something bitter. “Three years…,” he muttered angrily, as if to himself. “Three fucking years in a row. What are the fucking odds.” 

“Yeah, I’m not happy to have your posh mug crash my party, either, clotpole,” Merlin muttered, bristling, but still stepped aside to let the both of them in. He could hardly explain to Gwen why he had sent her soon-to-be-boyfriend away.

“Charming as ever,” Arthur huffed in indignation, then narrowed his eyes to look at Merlin with an air of contempt, eyeballing his party outfit, which consisted of glittery, silver shorts, red suspenders over a Nintendo shirt plus bow tie and a party hat. “What the fuck are you even wearing?”

“Apparently, you’re the one who didn’t get a clue on the dress code this year, because it’s “fabulous”,” Merlin replied, indicating his own, carefully selected clothes with a jaunty flourish, which made Arthur scowl. 

“Is this going to be weird?” Lance asked as he stepped into the small entry hall and shrugged out of his parka, looking uncertainly from Arthur to Merlin and back. “I didn’t know you knew each other.” 

At Lance’s words, Arthur looked shifty, avoiding Merlin’s gaze. “Not really,” he said hoarsely, but when Merlin glared, he had the grace to flinch. 

“Hah,” Merlin said in response, watching as Arthur slipped off his coat - it looked expensive and when Merlin glimpsed the label, he could confirm it to be a Belstaff. Posh prat, indeed. 

Merlin thought of last year’s New Year’s, remembered waking up on Gwaine’s couch with a bad taste in his mouth and his briefs sticking to his pubes with come, Arthur nowhere in sight. Arthur’s absence as soon as he woke had been expected, but Merlin still had felt out of sorts for a couple of days, until the busyness of the first days back at university had taken away the strange feeling of missing out on something important. 

Lance gave them a doubtful look, but obviously decided not to question their reaction to each other further, instead brandishing a bottle of champagne. “We brought booze - where can I put this?” 

Merlin directed him towards the bathroom to put the bottle into the tub with the others, aware of Arthur standing awkwardly next to him. 

“ _Is it_ going to be weird?” he echoed Lance’s earlier words once Lance was out of earshot, turning to glance at Arthur, who had the gall to look like someone straight from a magazine cover in his smart dress pants and maroon button down. 

“Why would it?” Arthur said snottily. “But don’t you think it’s crazy that there are approximately half a million parties in this city at New Year’s and we happen to be at the same one each and every year?” 

“I might be cursed,” Merlin pondered, delighted when Arthur rolled his eyes. “More likely though, we have friends in common,” Merlin pointed out, crossing his arms in front of him. 

“Which is probably the only thing we do have in common.”

“Right, because you’re a rich, annoying prat-” 

“...and you’re a super-nerdy, dirtbag exhibitionist-” Arthur said, glancing down pointedly at the double-entendre on Merlin’s Donkey Kong shirt and Merlin’s bare legs. 

“- that was only one time and-”

“-not for lack of trying!” Arthur sing-songed, and oh, Merlin couldn’t believe him.

“Yes, on your part! If I remember correctly it was you who worked quite thoroughly on getting rid off my sh-”

“You must have had too much to drink because that could only be wishful think-” 

“Uhmmm,” Lance said from next to them, sounding a bit nervous. “I put the champagne in the ice…” 

“Gwen’s in the kitchen. She’s waiting to put party hats on everyone,” Merlin suggested absentmindedly, not bothering to even look his way in favour of shooting Arthur a death glare, a little sad that he didn’t actually have super-powers and Arthur wouldn’t actually whither under his gaze. 

“Ugh,” Arthur muttered, returning Merlin’s dirty look and shouldered past him, purposefully slamming his shoulder into Merlin’s, “you annoy me so much!”

“Oh, be my guest!” Merlin called after him. “Enjoy my party!” When Arthur flipped him the finger backwards, he couldn’t resist getting in another word, or well, words. “And fuck you, too!”

*-* 

_#3. Arthur_

The place was filled with streamers, glitter and more disco balls than a normal UK household should have in its possession and the people were an arresting mix of weird and interesting (even if Arthur still wasn’t sure if the drag queen he had been talking to for about an hour about Game of Thrones was the real thing or just a guy who had dressed up really well for one night). It was nothing like the all-out drunken affair Gwaine hosted last year, but there was enough booze and music to set a good mood. Besides the music and drink, Gwen had had a couple of ideas to spice things up: They went to town on a giant Disco-Ball pinata that fit in well with the real ones (filled with booze-filled chocolates), played a very drunken and disorderly game of musical chairs and took part in a silly fortune teller game that had everyone roaring with laughter and making lewd jokes. 

At midnight they all raced up the ten flights of stairs to the roof of Gwen and Merlin’s ramshackle apartment building, shrieking with laughter in fear of missing out when the clock struck twelve, to watch the fireworks, while their accelerated breaths panted out in great, white plumes. 

Arthur reluctantly had to admit that it was a great party, maybe even fabulous.

All through the night, Arthur had felt Merlin’s eyes on him, again and again. They had managed to interact somewhat normally, even had laughed at each other’s jokes, despite their frosty start. It wasn’t that Arthur couldn’t remember last year. He remembered it much too well. He definitely remembered Merlin moving against him, pressing him into the couch and kissing him, dirtily and with a lot of sloppy tongue. He also remembered waking up in the morning, comfortably wrapped up in Merlin’s arms on Gwaine’s couch, of the panic that had gripped him and had propelled him off the couch and into Gwaine’s bathroom, stumbling over passed-out victims of booze on his way there. He had cleaned himself up, wondering what it was about Merlin that made him gay - because whether he liked it or not, he had truly started to question his sexual orientation the year before when confronted with Merlin’s naked body in the kitchen - then fled the apartment, glad that everyone else still seemed to be asleep. 

Afterwards, Arthur definitely had accepted that he wasn’t as straight as heretofore thought of and there had been a bit of exploration on his part, most notably with a summer fling from Italy (who with his dark hair and lithe body really only held a passing resemblance to Merlin).

The party was still going strong well after midnight and while some people were definitely drunk, nobody was yet about to pass out, a definitive improvement to last year. This year’s food was infinitely better, too, Arthur thought as he snacked on the little dried plums wrapped in bacon. He had been unable to stop eating them after first overcoming his suspicion, the combination of spicy bacon and sweet fruit addictive, clearing the plate that stood precariously on the edge of an ugly, laden melamine-covered table. 

“Food’s good?” someone asked with unparalleled brazenness and Arthur turned, taking the finger he had just licked clean out of his mouth to administer a glare at his reluctant host. 

“Not as bad as I feared,” Arthur said and swallowed the last bit of plum, taking in Merlin’s slightly flushed cheeks and wild hair. 

“Seeing as you didn’t leave any bacon-wrapped plums for anyone else, I figure they were more than “not as bad”,” Merlin suggested with narrowed eyes, glancing briefly at the empty plate, before raising his eyes back to glower at Arthur.

“Oh, didn’t you have any?” Arthur asked smugly and made a show of sticking his thumb into his mouth, exaggeratingly sucking imaginary plum juice and bacon fat residue off. 

Merlin gave him an unimpressed glare, the effect ruined by the way his eyes narrowed and grew heavy-lidded as he watched Arthur lick at his finger, before popping it out of his mouth. 

Arthur allowed himself a smug smirk, much too amused by the frazzled expression on Merlin’s face to feel bothered about the way he was so obviously attracted to the other man. He had had just enough alcohol to feel that it might not be so bad an idea if the night ended the way it had done last year, but not enough that he felt impaired in his decisions. 

In front of him, Merlin swallowed, then furtively glanced around, his gaze flickering over the other party guests, before he set his eyes back on Arthur with a determined air, like he had come to a difficult, but pleasing decision. Arthur watched as Merlin licked his lips, shivering when he half-remembered kissing him last year, and startled when Merlin reached for his wrist, wrapping cool fingers around it. 

“What-”

“My room,” Merlin said tersely, and the dark promise inherent in his voice sent a shiver down Arthur’s spine, a hot, sharp tingle that centered in his groin and spread like fire through his veins. 

Arthur could have easily snatched his hand back, but he was helpless against the feeling of desire cursing through him, his stomach nearly dropping out with excitement for what was about to come. He allowed himself to be dragged out of the living room and down the short way to the hall, before Merlin opened a door and tugged him inside, not bothering to switch on the lights. From what Arthur could make out from the streetlight filtering in through the blinds, it was a tiny bedroom, a shoebox, really, with a small double bed in a corner, a desk and chair, and not much else. He didn’t have time to really take a look around, because as soon as Merlin shut the door behind them, Arthur was thrown up against it with astonishing force. 

“Hng,” Arthur managed in protest, before Merlin was upon him, kissing him fiercely and pressing him back against the door. 

“Mhmmm, just as good as those bacon-wrapped plums,” Merlin gasped when he drew back, then leaned in again, sliding his tongue between Arthur’s parted lips. “No, wait, even better,” he mumbled on a moan, biting into the fleshy part of Arthur’s bottom lip. 

“I’d hope so,” Arthur growled out between kisses, making Merlin snort against his lips. 

When he reached out to wrap his arm around Merlin’s waist, Merlin pushed him back once more, making the doorframe rattle. “Clothes,” Merlin said, looking at him determinedly, “Off.” 

“Exhibitionist,” Arthur whispered, but Merlin shut him up with a fierce kiss, delivering a punishing bite to his lip, his hands making short work of Arthur’s button down, carelessly pulling open the buttons, before going for his own clothes, snapping down the suspenders and reaching behind himself to get rid of his shirt. Arthur watched him toss his shirt onto the floor, before loosening his bow-tie and flinging it into the semi-darkness of the room. The light from outside shifted over Merlin’s pale muscles as he moved, making it seem like he glowed. In his shorts and suspenders he looked boyish and fae, his dark curls framing his face with its sharp cheekbones and pouty lips. 

Merlin paused for just a second, looking at Arthur standing against the door, panting, with a look of deliberate consideration, before he stepped forward again and slid his hands into the open flaps of Arthur’s shirt. They came together again on a groan, naked chests brushing against each other as their lips met. Arthur’s shirt found its way to the floor, then Merlin’s hands were on his fly, pulling down the zipper on his trousers, impatiently pawing at his briefs, gripping him through the cotton fabric. The sound of their panting breaths was interspersed by the faint explosions of late fireworks popping in the sky outside.

Hissing, Arthur tossed his head back and bit down on his bottom lip, dizzy from how fast his cock was getting rock hard at the touch of Merlin’s palming hand. 

“Oh, yes,” Merlin said hoarsely, pulling Arthur from the confines of his jeans, his face turned downwards to watch his hand wrap around Arthur’s dick. His lashes were resting on his cheeks, dark and thick and his mouth was parted, tongue flickering out to wet his lips as he started to move his hand up and down along the shaft with measured, firm strokes. 

“Fuck,” Arthur whispered, glancing down as well to where his cock was gliding through Merlin’s fingers. Merlin’s hand with its long, elegant fingers looked insanely good wrapped around him. With effort, he reached down, pulling on Merlin’s shorts and fumbling inside the waistband to pop the button. The zipper slid down easily, revealing the bulge in Merlin’s shorts, the fabric damp where his cockhead had rubbed against it. Merlin exhaled a soft sigh of relief that petered out into a dark groan when Arthur reached inside his briefs as well. 

Merlin looked up at him then, his blue eyes glittering darkly in the dim light of the room, so full of heat, his face slack. Their eyes locked and Arthur kind of forgot to breathe for a moment, before Merlin all but attacked his mouth again, matching the strokes of his tongue with the rhythm on Arthur’s cock. Soon, kissing and breathing became too much at once, and they broke apart, their breaths laboured and loud in the dark room. With a groan, Merlin latched onto the side of Arthur’s neck, his curls tickling the underside of Arthur’s jaw as he explored the skin there with teeth and tongue. 

Arthur all but howled when Merlin bit, too hard, before sucking the blood to the surface, but the pleasure-pain made his cock twitch and dribble in Merlin’s hand, coating Merlin’s fingers with precome. 

Merlin grunted, then shifted back and pushed his hips forward, wrapping his hand around both of their cocks, his other hand pulling at Arthur’s hand to do the same. 

“Shit,” Arthur groaned, because the sensation was even better, slick, velvet skin over hardness sliding against him. He looked down between their bodies again, to the circle of their hands, to the flushed heads of their cocks rubbing against each other with each stroke. 

“Just like that,” Merlin instructed, forcing a rhythm with hands and hips, and Arthur couldn’t help it any longer, couldn’t hold it, his knees nearly buckling as he came. Against his face, Merlin’s breath puffed in desperate little pants, his moan vibrating against Arthur’s cheek. Arthur forced his eyes open, feeling himself twitch and shudder again when he saw the way Merlin’s hand was flying over their aligned cocks, Arthur’s come smeared between them. 

With a strangled, hoarse moan, Merlin followed, shooting come over both their bellies and their combined fingers. Arthur didn’t know where to look, at the messy way Merlin was spilling between them or his upturned face. He was beautiful. 

“Fuck,” Merlin said once he had regained his breath, shaking out his hand, not caring that come dripped from his fingers onto the hardwood floor. He gave his hand a ponderous look, before bringing it up to present it like someone would a trophy. Come glittered between his long fingers like webbing, and holding Arthur’s gaze, he darted his tongue out to taste it. The sight went straight to Arthur’s groin, making his spent cock twitch with confused interest. 

Before he knew what he was doing he had stepped forward, grabbed Merlin’s hand and crowded him backwards towards the nearby bed. 

Merlin’s breath came out in a woosh when Arthur dipped his head and took two of Merlin’s fingers in his mouth, sucking off their combined taste. It was bitter and warm and he moaned around the digits, surprised at his own daring. 

“Never call me a dirtbag, again, dirtbag,” Merlin muttered, sounding amused. 

Arthur released Merlin’s fingers, wanted to retort with something witty or scathing possibly, but couldn’t find the words, overwhelmed by the need to kiss the lopsided, wicked grin from Merlin’s face. With a groan, he pressed forward, toppling them down onto the bed, determined that the next words from Merlin’s mouth should only be affirmations or desperate pleas for more.


	4. New Year #4 - Lance’s masquerade party: Where someone gets slapped

_#4. Arthur_

It was a given that Merlin would be at Lance’s New Year’s party, considering that he was best friends with Lance’s girlfriend, Gwen, but still, Arthur had been on tenterhooks all day long. It irked him how appallingly desperate he was to see Merlin again, even if he vehemently wanted to tell himself he didn’t. It had been a year since he had stumbled out of Merlin’s bedroom in the early hours of the morning, wincing at the love bites and bruises and the tell-tale soreness of his bum, once more doing the walk of shame. He had told himself that having sex with Merlin had been another critical lapse of judgment on his part, because no matter how good it had been and no matter how gorgeous Merlin looked in the morning, lying next to Arthur in the sheets with his tousled bedhead and miles of pale skin, it wasn’t as if they _liked_ each other. Merlin was still an insufferable, insolent idiot and that didn’t change with the fact that his dick had reduced Arthur to a whimpering, writhing mess of mindless lust. 

Since Gwen and Lance had become a couple - quite predictably at last year’s party - Arthur had heard mention of Merlin a couple of times, although so far he had avoided meeting him, something that was quite an impressive feat considering that Gwen and Lance were practically joined at the hip. The one occasion Arthur couldn’t seem to get out of was New Year’s, so here he was, fortifying himself with a rather stiff Scotch, when Merlin stepped into Lance’s parents’ living room. 

It could only be Merlin, because despite the costume he was wearing and the mask covering the upper half of his face, Arthur would recognize his long limbs and lithe build anywhere. Also, The Flash suit hugging Merlin’s body was a dead give-away among the otherwise classically dressed guests. The man next to him wore a long cloak with a hood, the mask around his eyes green - Arthur wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be The Arrow, or a medieval druid. He definitely lacked muscle for the former. They stood out like two sore thumbs. Arthur took another swig from his glass, scowling at the bloke in the hood, who had to be Merlin’s boyfriend. 

Now that the first shock of seeing Merlin again - even from a distance - had run through him, Arthur felt like he could finally relax a little. A strange form of disappointment had come with Merlin’s entrance, a disappointment Arthur was reluctantly admitting came with the presence of Merlin’s company. There would be no repeat performance of last year. The thought gripped Arthur with shame - he was here with Elena, his girlfriend of two months, and she surely didn’t deserve his treacherous reflections. 

Despite Arthur’s best efforts to ignore Merlin as best as he could, staying firmly by Elena’s side, he felt his eyes drawn towards Merlin again and again as the night wore on. He looked stupid in his suit, Arthur thought vindictively, while valiantly attempting to not appreciate the way the fabric clung to Merlin’s narrow hips and pert arse. Jesus, why couldn’t Merlin wear a dress suit like everyone else! 

He had been successful in not engaging with Merlin until almost midnight, but his luck petered out when he found himself reaching for the same plate of pigs in a blanket, their hands bumping. 

“So we meet again, fighting over the buffet once more,” Merlin drawled mock-dramatically, sounding suspiciously like Adam West. 

Arthur groaned and turned slowly to face him, giving him an exasperated look, refusing to admit that Merlin’s blue eyes looked amazing peering out from The Flash’s red leather mask. “Holy Hors D'oeuvre, Batman,” he shot back, almost without thinking, wincing a second later when he became aware what kind of fodder he had just unwillingly given Merlin. 

Merlin, predictably, froze with his hand still clutching a pig in a blanket and blinked at Arthur, his face showing his puzzlement. “Did you or did you not just quote “Batman and Robin” at me?” he asked suspiciously, eyeing Arthur shrewdly. 

“My repertoire of Flash quotes didn’t fit the occasion,” Arthur admitted, wiping his greasy fingers on a paper napkin. “Also, Barry Allen is too earnest, by far. He’s a bit of a bore, to be honest, I have no idea why you chose to wear his costume.” 

Merlin stared at him with dawning comprehension, then snorted out a brief laugh. “Are you insulting my outfit for the fourth year in a row?” 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Look, if you’d just adhered to dress code for once-” 

“This is really becoming a theme here…” Merlin muttered and shoved a pig in a blanket into his mouth, chewing artlessly while looking at Arthur as if he was a very interesting but profoundly weird specimen. 

“I don’t want this to be a “theme””,” Arthur said scathingly, using air quotes to underline his irritation. “It’s bad enough that I run into you every year, I really don’t want to repeat my drunken mistakes.” 

Merlin’s mouth twisted into a sneery smirk at Arthur’s words, his eyes glinting with a challenge. “Oh, there’s definitely a theme here of you running away with your tail tucked between your legs.” 

It was Arthur’s time to hiss in exasperation. “I think you mean the repeat performance of you annoying me to no ends - there’s just no escaping you. I only want to celebrate the New Year in peace. And here you are, again!” He threw his hands up in frustration. 

“We need to divorce our friends for that. Or, I dunno, you could take a boat trip and get shipwrecked on a deserted island infested with terrorists,” Merlin suggested lightly, reaching around Arthur to pick up a salt cracker topped with cream cheese, stuffing it into his mouth without finesse. He was grinning, despite his words, and crumbs clung to his lips. He was supposed to look stupid, Arthur thought helplessly, not like someone decidedly snoggable. 

“How about you take a lesson from Luke Skywalker and relocate to Dagobah? I heard the swamps are lovely this time of year,” Arthur shot back, ready to trade more geeky barbs, because he had a couple more up his sleeve, if Merlin so desired.

“There’s a nice, secluded monastery in Nanda Parbat; they’re waiting for you.” 

“More Batman?” Arthur asked pompously. “How lame. Hopefully you’ll get trapped in the Phantom Zone and I don’t need to see you and your lame quotes again next year.”

“Oh my God,” Merlin burst out, his face lighting up in a giant grin ( _that made him look like an idiot!_ Arthur decided), “you are a geek. How did I not know?”

“It isn’t like you know a lot about me,” Arthur said haughtily. 

“You were always so dismissive...“ Merlin pondered, watching Arthur with delighted interest, his eyes bright and intense underneath his mask. 

“Oh, I’m still plenty dismissive.” 

“Yeah,” Merlin said, but he was smiling and Arthur felt his frustration ebb away, confronted with the force of Merlin’s smile, not a smirk this time, but a delighted quirk of his lips that crinkled his eyes. 

Just at that moment, a familiar voice shrieked from not far away and there was a resounding slap that was easily heard over the hum of conversation in the room. 

“Shit,” Merlin said, his eyes growing wide as he looked at something over Arthur’s shoulder. “Did your girlfriend just slap my date?” 

Arthur swivelled around on the spot, taking in the commotion near the kitchen door, where Elena was standing with a flushed face and blazing eyes, her golden hair a wild cloud around her head. In front of her, Merlin’s date, the bloke in the hood, was holding his quickly reddening cheek. 

“Ouch, that must have hurt,” Arthur said wincing, not because he had been at the receiving end of Elena’s slap, but because Elena was a fitness nut and stronger than any other woman Arthur knew. She could wrestle him easily - in fact, it was a bit of a turn-on.

“He probably deserved it,” Merlin sighed, reaching up to rub a long finger over his brow, like he felt a headache coming. “I mean, he has a really clumsy way with words, especially when he talks to women. I swear, he’s not a bad sort, just... .” He trailed off helplessly and bit his lip, glancing at Arthur with resignation. “I should go over there, shouldn’t I?”

In that moment, Elena slapped Merlin’s date again, drawing a shocked gasp from the bystanders.

“Oh my God,” Arthur moaned, wincing, “who are these people we’re dating?” 

Merlin blinked at him, speechless for once.

*-*

_#4. Merlin_

Mordred had gone home; which in hindsight had been a good thing, because he was a) whining about his stinging face and complaining about the “crazy fury” who had slapped him without being provoked and b) Merlin had been somewhat embarrassed for bringing someone who got into a fight. That’s what he probably got for inviting an untried date to a New Year’s party, but he had been admittedly desperate, not wanting to show up to Lance’s party alone, when he knew he would most likely meet Arthur and his girlfriend. 

The whole commotion with Mordred and Arthur’s girlfriend cost him the midnight celebration, and when he returned from saying goodbye to Mordred in the hallway outside, Arthur and Elena had been arguing quietly in a corner, not as privately as they might have thought. People had been looking at Merlin with raised eyebrows, whispering quietly to themselves, shooting him curious and slightly reproachful looks. Wincing, Merlin had grabbed a bottle of vodka from the bar (the need to be quick about it making him not very choosy), and tried to find a place in Lance’s parents‘ house where he could be alone and possibly get some liquid courage to face his friends again. The only room that was vacant was the bathroom on the second floor, and, gratefully, he sank down on the cool tiles, resting his back against the bathtub and started on the bottle. 

He couldn’t have been sitting here drinking for a long time, because he was nowhere drunk enough when someone opened the door to the bathroom, peering inside. 

“Oh, it’s just you,” Arthur said, then stepped into the room and closed the door behind himself quietly. “Are you hiding out?” 

Merlin shrugged, then took another sip straight from the bottle. “I’m trying to get so drunk that I won’t mind facing everyone else after this. I count on them being just as drunk, so everyone forgets that my date ruined the New Year’s Eve cheer. Just before midnight, too. People kiss at midnight, they don’t get slapped.” 

Arthur snorted dryly and slid down beside Merlin, taking the bottle from Merlin’s hand. He grimaced when he tipped it back, but drank nonetheless. “Elena went home,” he said when he lowered the vodka again. “Said she had enough of celebrating and also, her hand hurt.” He paused and looked thoughtful, before taking another sip from the bottle. “Do you mind if I hide out with you here?” 

Shrugging again, Merlin gave a wave of his hand, indicating the space around them. “Be my guest.” 

“This was a weird New Year’s,” Merlin muttered, carefully taking the bottle back from Arthur and taking another swig, before wiping his wet mouth with the back of his hand. 

“No shit, Sherlock,” Arthur muttered, rolling his eyes. 

“I feel responsible,” Merlin sighed, reaching up to push the cowl from his face - the fabric was getting itchy and too hot. Underneath it, his hair was dampened with sweat and he just knew it would stick up in odd angles, but he didn’t particularly care. The night had reached its messy low point; he couldn’t feel embarrassed for something as harmless as crazy hair. Despite that, he reached up, clumsily trying to pat his crazy curls into submission. 

“Me too,” Arthur echoed, then laughed. “It looks like our animosity extends to our dates. This year, it looks like we got them fighting our battles.” 

“Does that mean you are my arch-nemesis?” Merlin asked lightly, taking another swig from the bottle before pressing it back into Arthur’s hands. 

Arthur eyed the bottle with consideration, before leading it towards his lips with a shrug once more. Biting his bottom lip, Merlin watched the way Arthur’s lips pursed around the bottle’s neck, trying not to let the sight get to him. The fact remained, Arthur Pendragon was ridiculously pretty, even if he was a first class prat. 

Slowly, Arthur lowered the bottle and put it on the floor between them with a clunk of glass on ceramic tiles. “So I’m the Captain Cold to your Flash?” 

“Gay as a picknick basket. There is definitely a lot of unresolved sexual tension between them,” Merlin pondered, delighted when Arthur laughed out in surprise. 

“Oh, we got rid of that already, so we should be fine,” Arthur muttered, pulling his knees up and slinging his arms around them. “We can concentrate fully on snarking at each other and foiling each other’s plans.”

“Right,” Merlin said, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice. It wasn’t exactly like that from his vantage point, but he would surely not admit it outright. He took a deep breath and picked up the bottle again, told himself firmly that it was all right that Arthur didn’t feel the same unbridled attraction to him and led the bottle to his mouth once more. 

“I still can’t get over the fact that you get all my geeky references. I thought you were a stuck up prick, too suave for your own good. Very “Cold”,” he said lightly once he had taken another mouthful of vodka. It burned down his throat pleasantly, taking with it the sting of rejection. 

Next to him, Arthur shrugged and tilted his head, his cheek still resting on his kneecap. “Just because I don’t display my geekiness as openly as you-” 

“Hey now,” Merlin interrupted him, “there’s nothing wrong with geek pride!”

Arthur snorted and rubbed his forehead into his knee, before glancing back at Merlin, still smiling. “You’re kind of alright,” he said softly, his eyes dancing over Merlin’s face. “For my arch-nemesis, I mean.” 

His words made warmth suffuse Merlin from head to toe, travelling through his body in a similar way to how the alcohol had burned down his throat, a soft, zinging wave of pleasure. Merlin felt himself answering Arthur’s smile, desperately fighting to keep his cool. It wouldn’t do him any good to moon over Arthur, no matter how attractive Arthur might be or how Merlin could still perfectly recall their night together, how the memories were even sharper now of Arthur staring at him with glittering eyes as Merlin fucked him, with Arthur so close, looking at him like that. Arthur’s eyes were impossibly blue and soft with a fondness Merlin felt he didn’t deserve.

“Cheers,” Merlin said, and pressed the bottle of vodka into Arthur’s hands.


	5. New Year #5 - Arthur’s disastrous cabin party: Where everything and nothing happens

_#5. Merlin_

Of course, Merlin thought, when he had stepped foot into the lake-side cabin Arthur had rented in East Sussex for New Year’s, Arthur didn’t do anything by half. The place was enormous, a large, rustic cabin with all the amenities one could wish for, styled with a modern scandinavic twist.

“This is insane,” he said, eyeing the large living space with its tall Christmas tree decoration, the fire place and the open kitchen area. 

“Do you like it?” Arthur asked from next to him, and if Merlin hadn’t known better, he would say that Arthur looked nervous the way his eyes were flitting about - never coming to rest on Merlin’s face. 

“Insane,” Merlin echoed his own words and dropped his duffle bag on the hardwood floor, glancing up at the exposed wooden rafters and the large staircase that led upstairs. 

“Oh wow,” Gwen’s voice came from behind him as she, too, stepped into the cabin. “This is gorgeous, Arthur!” She swivelled around on her heels, shaking snow-flakes from her dark hair.

“Gorgeous,” Arthur stage-whispered to Merlin, sounding playfully miffed. “Gorgeous!” 

“Shut up,” Merlin huffed good-naturedly, rolling his eyes at his friend and jabbing his elbow into Arthur’s side. “It’s not like you need _my_ validation that you picked well.” 

Arthur grumbled a complaint and his nose twitched, the way it did when he wanted to say something but refrained from doing so, and he reached out, placing a hand between Merlin’s shoulder blades, and pushed him further into the room. “Bedrooms are upstairs. You better secure a good one and then get dressed for the party. I’ll be very sad if you don’t put a geeky spin on the dress code suggestion.” 

“You went easy on me this year with the Pajama Party theme,” Merlin said. “I’m almost disappointed it isn’t that much of a challenge.”

“You’ll still do your worst, I’m sure,” Arthur replied and patted his shoulder, smiling at his words, a smile that made his knees weak. 

Merlin swallowed and looked away quickly, feeling heat rise in his face. With a deep breath, he picked up his duffle bag again and made for the stairs and bounded upstairs, where he stuck his head inside every room and did as Arthur suggested. The rooms were mostly the same, all beautifully equipped with a large double bed and a serviceable cupboard, but some of them had a nicer view of the lake outside. Despite the wintery weather it was warm - the cabin was equipped with central heating, the large fireplace in the living room below mostly for cosiness. Merlin decided on one of the lake-side rooms, tossed his duffle onto the carpet and flung himself on the bed, rolling over onto his back and looking up at the exposed beams of the ceiling. Beneath him, the bed felt luxuriously big and he spread out his arms like a starfish, trying it out for size. It was enormous and he had it all to himself.

From downstairs, laughter and cheers sounded upstairs as more guests arrived, but Merlin decided to stay in his room for a little while longer, resting and mentally preparing for the night ahead. A year had gone by since Arthur and he had become friends, bonding over their ruined dates for New Year’s in Lance’s parents’ bathroom. Shortly after New Year’s, they had started to hang out regularly, usually seeing each other at least once a week, even during Arthur’s exam weeks. While Merlin was doing his two years of foundation training in the medical field, Arthur was closing in on his last year of a post-graduate in architecture. Amazingly enough, despite their history of New Year’s fights and hookups, they found themselves enjoying each other’s company. Merlin was surprised to realise that Arthur was incredibly easy to talk to, sharing Merlin’s own dark sense of humour if Arthur just relaxed a little. Merlin could barely fathom how Arthur had turned from his reluctant New Year’s tryst into the person Merlin thought of calling first with any kind of news. 

When Merlin had broken his ankle in a bike accident, it was Arthur who came to pick him up from the emergency room and Arthur who helped him out the first couple of days at home until he got used to the crutches. And when Arthur had been writing his final exams, it was Merlin who had helped him study and bought him pizza and ice cream to get through a long night. They had become friends, maybe best friends. And if Merlin maybe looked at Arthur a little too long when he thought Arthur wasn’t noticing or if Merlin had to excuse himself to beat off in the loo after a little bit of roughhousing on the couch during a movie marathon, it really only was Merlin’s problem, wasn’t it? 

Outside, people stomped up the stairs and barged into the empty rooms, loudly laying claim to them, and reluctantly, Merlin got up from the bed and dressed himself in his pajamas, grinning as he slipped into the blue onesie and accompanying blue socks; he looked forward to Arthur’s expression when he saw him. 

When he came down the stairs, Morgana was standing in the kitchen, heating punch in a huge pot, the sweet, orange-flavoured and cinnamon smell wafting through the large room, clad in comfortable flannel pajamas in a festive red, her hair up in a messy bun.

“Oh my God, you look ridiculous,” Arthur crowed when he saw him, carelessly dropping the several cartons of store-bought sandwiches he had been carrying in from outside onto the large oak table. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, his blond hair dark and wet. The gentle snowfall from earlier had become denser and when Merlin looked out the window, he could barely see past the wall of white. He knew the snowy wintery landscape was out there, the large trees already groaning under the weight from the last two weeks of heavy snowfall, but the snow made it impossible to look farther than maybe a meter.

“I don’t and you know it,” Merlin said huffily, pushing his hands into the pockets of his Tardis onesie and shifting on his feet. 

“Awww, are you bigger on the inside?” Arthur cackled, then bounded over and tugged on Merlin’s hood, pushing it away from his face, before he ruffled a hand through Merlin’s curls. 

“You know I’m iconic. One of a kind.” 

“You’re also a girl,” Arthur pointed out.

“You’re so funny when you’re sexist,” Merlin muttered. “Why aren’t you in your pajamas? So I can laugh at the way you’ve probably picked the lamest Star Wars PJs they had on Amazon.”

Morgana turned from the stove and arched her eyebrow at the both of them. “You are both ridiculous, because Arthur is going to desperately try and pretend he didn’t buy a Ten pajama outfit. You two geeks are so tuned into each other, it’s embarrassing.” 

Arthur grimaced, then tossed a sharp, “Be silent, witch,” over his shoulder, making her cackle with delight. 

“Seriously?” Merlin asked, delighted, picturing Arthur wearing Ten’s custom outfit complete with scuffed Converse and a brown coat, his hair all messy. 

Arthur had the grace to blush and ducked his head, stepping around Merlin to pick up a carton of sandwiches, opening it and peering inside, like he wanted to inspect what they had bought. “Ten is the best Doctor,” he mumbled softly, sniffing carefully at the sandwiches, before putting the carton down again. 

Merlin did agree, and well, Arthur probably knew he did, because they had spent a whole rainy weekend gushing over David Tennant not so long ago, but Arthur was looking pretty embarrassed, his cheeks stained red, so Merlin decided to let it slide. 

He stepped forward instead, into Arthur’s space, taking the box of sandwiches out of Arthur’s hands. “Where do you want to put these?” he asked, aware of how close they were standing when Arthur leaned slightly back, the expression on Arthur’s face slightly forlorn, like he had no idea what to do with the sandwiches now that he had brought them inside from the car.

“Ugh,” Morgana said disdainfully, “put them on some plates, Merlin. And Arthur - go get dressed and stop ogling Merlin, I don’t care how adorable he is.”

“I’m not, I’m…” Arthur spluttered and blushed even more, fidgeting where he was all but trapped between Merlin and the oak table at his back. Merlin had pity on him and took a couple of steps backwards, feeling awkward and slightly angry at Morgana. It wasn’t like that between them, no matter how much Merlin wanted it to be. Arthur practically fled the kitchen and thundered up the wooden stairs, leaving Merlin to help out Morgana. 

“I’m sorry my brother is an idiot,” she said while they were placing sandwiches on plates and arranging bowls with snacks on the table. “He has a hard time just being nice to people, so this thing between you is really stressing him out.” 

“What thing between us?” Merlin asked carefully, his heart speeding up in his chest, his fingers trembling as he fumbled with a salmon sandwich, nearly dropping it face-down onto the plate he was trying to put it on. 

Morgana huffed out a breath and rolled her eyes, then looked pityingly at him. “Oh, this would be priceless if it weren’t so sad,” she muttered, but before Merlin could ask what she meant, she had placed the last of her sandwiches on her plate and took the box back to the counter. “I’m going to see if everyone has settled in upstairs. When Arthur returns, you two can light a fire and get out the boardgames. Just try not to get distracted or anything.” 

“By what?” Merlin asked, but Morgana just gave him a look so full of disdain that he didn’t dare ask again. 

*-* 

_#5. Arthur_

Arthur had thought that renting a cabin for New Year’s had been a great idea, maybe the best he had had in ages. For once, he could reduce the number of guests to less than a dozen and spend New Year’s only with his closest friends, making sure the evening would go the way he wanted it to. He had it all planned out perfectly: The cabin was large and cosy and set beautifully near a lake in the midst of a forest, an enchanting getaway for the New Year’s weekend. They would play boardgames, drink hot, alcoholic beverages and eat tons of food, and lounge around in front of the fireplace in their pajamas. The mood was destined to be romantic with the snow-covered nature outside and the warmth of the open fireplace inside. He counted on the 4 couples - Gwen and Lancelot, Gwaine and Elena, Leon and Morgana and Mithian and Sophia- enjoying the leisurely New Year, hoping the romantic air would extend to Merlin and himself. He planned to make a definite move to catapult them out of the friend zone in which they had spent the last year and which seemed impossible to navigate out of. 

It all started out the way Arthur had anticipated. They played a round of boardgames, drank rum-spiked cocoa with marshmallows sprawled on the couches and armchairs in the living room and ate their own body weight in tiny and perfectly dressed sandwiches. Next to him, Merlin was sitting cross-legged on the carpeted floor, his flushed face illuminated by the light from the open fire, his hair sticking up every which way from under his blue hood, laughing uproariously as Gwaine retold the story of how they managed to get lost on their way to the cabin for the third time this evening. With every retelling, the story got more and more ridiculous, framing Elena as ever more incompetent at operating Google Maps. Elena, with an air of long-suffering annoyance, finally reached over, first pressing her hands over Gwaine’s mouth to keep him from talking, before launching herself at him and shutting him up with a kiss to hooting laughter from the other guests. 

Arthur laughed as well, feeling happy for his friends and the way they fit together, not begrudging them their new relationship bliss. Elena’s and his relationship had been short-lived, had barely survived the first weeks of the New Year and, if Arthur had been honest with himself, it had been over on his part the moment he had said goodbye to Merlin on New Year’s morning after a night full of drinking bad vodka and talking and talking, their laughter echoing from the tiled walls of Lance’s bathroom. 

Arthur chanced another side-glance at Merlin, feeling pleasure race through him at the way Merlin’s eyes were sparkling, his face flushed with laughter and alcohol. He wished he could lean over, make himself at home at Merlin’s side, breathe in the firewood and cinnamon smell of him and feel his laughter vibrate underneath his skin. On the other side of the floor, on the carpet, Gwen and Lance were cuddled up, whispering slowly between themselves. Occasionally, Lance would feed Gwen another chocolate covered raisin and they would kiss. It was almost nauseating to watch them, they were so in love, but Arthur felt the way his heart ached with longing for something so uncomplicated and real. 

Next to him, Merlin snorted out popcorn on a laugh, spraying him with little chewed bits at something Gwaine - who was more drunk than anyone else because he had insisted the punch didn’t have enough rum and had deliberately poured more into his mug - had said and Arthur rolled his eyes and wiped first popcorn bits from his own pajamas, before reaching out and brushing more from Merlin’s chest. The fabric of Merlin’s Tardis suit was warm and soft and beneath it, he could make out the hard muscles of Merlin’s torso. His hand wanted to stay there, feeling Merlin’s chest rise and fall with the rhythm of his breath. 

He became aware that he was indeed not drawing back his hand in an appropriate and timely manner when Merlin’s eyes turned on him, soft and dark and wide, his lips wetly parted, a thoughtful expression on his face. Inside, Arthur began to panic, because he didn’t know what to say or do. All his carefully laid plans of luring Merlin away from the others and kissing him at midnight suddenly seemed irrelevant, but he could hardly lay one on Merlin here in front of their friends out of fear of Merlin’s rejection. Just because they had fucked once, what felt like ages ago, didn’t mean that Merlin wanted it again, let alone something other than just sex. 

He watched as Merlin tilted his head and licked his lips and for a wild ten seconds contemplated that Merlin wanted him just the same way he wanted him, when there was suddenly a deafening crack from outside and they jerked apart, just a moment before all the lights in the house suddenly flickered and went out at the same time. 

“Shit,” Mithian squeaked, then Gwaine laughed. 

“It’s not funny, idiot,” Gwen said sharply, and when Arthur’s eyes adjusted to the dark room, only illuminated by the lazy flames in the fireplace - they definitely had to fire it up again - she was glaring and looking a little scared. 

“What the hell happened?” Leon asked. 

“I think a tree cracked and fell from the weight of the snow,” Merlin said in the ensuing silence. “Probably capped the power supply line.” 

“Shit,” Mithian said again, with feeling. 

“We’re all going to die!” Gwaine said dramatically, his voice a little slurred from the alcohol he had imbibed. 

“Shut up, Gwaine!” Gwen hissed and tossed a throw pillow at Gwaine’s head, hitting him square in the face. 

“Good shot, Gwen,” Morgana muttered, then tossed another pillow after the first one, laughing when she, too, hit Gwaine. 

“I’m going to have a look at the junction box, maybe it’s just a blown fuse,” Arthur said determinedly, slowly getting up from the place on the floor. 

“I’ll come with you,” Merlin suggested, grabbing his phone from where it lay on the floor next to him on the carpet. 

They made their way through the dark cabin by the torchlight from Merlin’s phone, hitting their hips on furniture and corners, stumbling over thresholds, before finding the junction box near the first floor bathroom. 

When Arthur pushed it open, he could see immediately that all the fuses were up and none of them were blown. “Fuck,” he murmured, turning towards Merlin in frustration. “You are probably right.” 

“Aren’t I always?” Merlin sassed him, but he didn’t look too happy about it. His face looked bluish, pale in the phone’s light. They were once again standing too close, chest to chest. Arthur could feel Merlin’s breath shivering over his face. If he leaned in now… 

A crash from the living room made him jump back and hit his side on a cupboard. 

“Oh my God!” Elena’s shrill voice could be heard even over the rest of them all talking over each other. “Gwaine! Is that blood? Oh my God!” she yelled, sounding genuinely freaked out, which was impressive considering that Elena wasn’t easily fazed by anything. 

“Oh, fuck,” Merlin groaned, then closed his eyes briefly, before giving Arthur a frustrated look. “I have an emergency first aid kit in my bag upstairs - go get it.” 

“You really are prepared for a worst case scenario,” Arthur said wondrously. “Did you foresee anything like that happening?” 

“I’m a doctor, not a fortune teller,” Merlin said with a long-suffering sigh. 

Despite the gravity of the situation, Arthur burst into laughter. “I’ll get your kit, Bones.” 

From the living room, Gwaine let out a hoarse shout, followed by a lot of colourful cursing. 

“On pure speculation, just an educated guess, I'd say that man is alive,” Merlin quipped, threw Arthur another grin over his shoulder and then dashed off into the direction of the living room.

If there had been any last doubt in Arthur’s mind that he was madly in love with Merlin, Merlin quoting TOS at him in a moment of crisis made it inexorably clear that he adored the very ground Merlin stood on.


	6. New Year's Day: The Dawn of the New Year's Day Rebellion

_Merlin_

It was cold in the bedroom, thanks to the defunct central heating and the fact that outside the window, the snow storm was still going strong. Merlin lay with his hands clasped between his thighs curled up in a tight little ball, trying desperately to get warm, but the bed linens felt icy and not even the jumper he had put on above his Tardis pajamas could really get him warm. It might have had something to do with the fact that he had needed to wash himself down with cold water after attending to Gwaine’s wound. 

The evening had been a disaster. After the lights went out and Gwaine had taken a drunken tumble into the glass coffee table, Merlin had spent a good twenty minutes getting out glass splinters from Gwaine’s shoulder, before disinfecting the wounds and closing the myriad of small cuts with all the medical strips he had packed. 

It had been well after midnight once he was finished, and the festive mood was gone. Elena had taken Gwaine off to bed and then they had eaten luke-warm goulash soup in front of the fire, wrapped in blankets against the cold, before the rest of the party had decided to go to bed as well. There was hardly anything to be done until the power supply line was repaired and given the weather outside, that would hardly be before mid-morning at the earliest. 

Now, Merlin was shivering in his bed, wide awake, thinking of Arthur’s disappointed, crestfallen face when everyone had said good night, much too early on a New Year’s Eve, to bundle up underneath the blankets. Huffing, Merlin turned in the cocoon of his sheets, trying to find a comfortable spot in the too big, cold bed. He couldn’t seem to get warm and the longer he lay still, the colder he became. Jealously, he thought of the others sharing their beds with each other. It would be much, much nicer having someone beside him to share body heat. The thought brought with it images of Arthur, just as alone in his bed across the hall, curled up and surely warm. Arthur always was warm, like a furnace. He never complained that he was cold, never needed to wear caps or scarves in winter, never even bothered with gloves. His feet were always toasty warm when they curled up on the couch to watch TV. 

When the temptation of Arthur’s warm presence became too much and overrode all the hesitation and fear of rejection Merlin had stowed inside him, he finally gave up, wrapped his blanket around him and hopped across the hall on icy feet, carefully pushing open the door. He didn’t know what he would do if Arthur was sleeping, but at the sound of the door, Arthur shot up in bed, blinking into the dark. 

“Another emergency?” he asked, sounding concerned. 

“I’m cold,” Merlin said, knowing he sounded pathetic, but not caring. “I’m really cold. It’s definitely an emergency, because I’ll never become a surgeon if I lose the feeling in my fingers,” he whined, hopping from one foot onto the other to get some circulation into his legs. Despite his woolen socks, his toes ached with the cold. 

Arthur let out a relieved huff of laughter. “Come here, you overdramatic bitch,” he said affectionately, whipping the duvet back and scooting to the middle of the bed. 

“Oh my God, thank you!” Merlin crowed in relief, then made a dash forward and all but threw himself next to Arthur onto the bed, every pretense of aloofness vanishing as he shivered and curled himself into a tight ball. 

“Jesus,” Arthur huffed, then tossed the duvet over Merlin and did the best thing that in Merlin’s estimation had happened all evening, because he scooted closer and threw an arm around Merlin, pressing him close. 

“Gah,” Merlin said happily and pressed his nose against the fabric of Arthur’s pajamas, basking in the heat emanating from Arthur’s body. 

“Fuck, you really are an icicle,” Arthur complained, rubbing up and down Merlin’s arm. “Steve Rogers was probably running hotter when he woke up after 70 years in the ice.” 

“I love it when you’re talking in geeky references,” Merlin sighed, unable to help himself, his body slowly heating up, both from the warmth of Arthur’s bed as well as the closeness of his body that spread a different, sharper heat through his limbs. 

“You do, do you?” Arthur asked with fond amusement, and Merlin nodded into the front of Arthur’s pajama shirt, uncaring that he probably was pathetic and seeking out warmth and cuddles from a man who had made it clear he only wanted to be friends. 

With Arthur’s body heat so close, he finally stopped shivering and he couldn’t help the contended, happy sound that spilled from his lips as he burrowed even closer. “I also love it when you get my geeky references,” he added drowsily, feeling his muscles become ladden and heavy now that he was getting warm. 

Against the crown of his head, Arthur hummed, his breath stirring the curls on Merlin’s head with a gust of warm air. “This evening was a disaster,” Arthur murmured. “Glad that you could stitch together Gwaine, though. Driving to the nearest hospital would have been quite an adventure.” 

“It wasn’t so bad,” Merlin mumbled sleepily, breathing in Arthur’s spicy, comforting smell.

“Another catastrophic New Year’s party,” Arthur sighed, sounding slightly bitter. “I wanted it to be special this year.” 

At his words, Merlin giggled. “It was pretty special, though. Also - I don’t know what you are complaining about, but we had some great New Year’s.” 

“Hah,” Arthur muttered, a pout audible in his words. 

“We have all of New Year’s Day to make up for it. I really want to go sledding. Or ice skating. Or, I dunno… just tracking through the snow.” 

“You must be delirious with exhaustion,” Arthur commented dryly, “because however will you stay warm during these activities?” 

“Oh, that’s what I have you for,” Merlin mumbled sleepily, feeling his eyes slip close. 

Arthur didn’t reply, not even with a snarky comment, but Merlin could feel his hand rub up and down Merlin’s hip, a nice, repetitive motion that made Merlin drowsy and sent him off to sleep.

*-* 

_Arthur_

When Arthur woke, Merlin was sprawled over his body with his arms flung out over Arthur’s chest, one leg wrapped around his hip like a monkey, his head lolling on Arthur’s shoulder, so close, his curls were brushing the underside of Arthur’s jaw whenever he breathed. Carefully, Arthur craned his head and looked at Merlin’s slack, content face, his heart starting to beat a little faster, so loud and excited he feared the sound of it would wake Merlin up. The soft, grey morning light spilled over Merlin’s features, accentuating the softness of his lips and the angular shape of his cheekbones. His lashes rested on his cheeks, impossibly dark and full against the paleness of his skin. 

Arthur exhaled a soft, shaky sigh, and couldn’t help himself, reaching up with his free arm, his fingers gently grazing the dark strands of hair curling outward at the nape of Merlin’s neck. They were soft, so soft, and Arthur bit his lips and enjoyed the way they felt beneath his fingers. 

A gentle sound rumbled from Merlin’s lips and he smiled, a smile that set off the dimple on his chin and pronounced his cheekbones. 

“Morning,” Arthur said, embarrassed about how scratchy and raw his voice sounded. 

Merlin’s eyes were very blue when he opened them and they crinkled around the corners as his smile deepened upon seeing Arthur. “Happy New Year’s,” he murmured, sounding content and morning-lazy. 

“We never celebrated last night, not really,” Arthur said regretfully, shifting a little to give Merlin more space - they were plastered together, touching all along their sides. Merlin’s leg was heavy on his hip. He thought of the rather joyless clinking of glasses last night, their perfunctory toasting to the New Year. He had hoped to kiss Merlin at midnight. He had hoped to wake up with him on New Year’s Day. At least he had one out of two, he thought, resisting the temptation to reach out and stroke his hand down Merlin’s exposed arm.

Merlin’s smile slipped from his lips and was replaced by a thoughtful expression. He pushed himself up on his elbow, peering carefully at Arthur’s face. 

“You are disappointed,” he noted, his forehead wrinkling as he studied Arthur, who desperately tried not to flinch underneath Merlin’s scrutinising gaze. 

“No, I mean… I just thought…we didn’t do it right,” Arthur stuttered, fidgeting. Merlin’s eyes narrowed briefly, before his expression turned playfully mischievous. 

“10,” Merlin said determinedly. 

“What?” Arthur asked, laughing at the suddenly tenacious look on Merlin’s face. 

“9,” Merlin commenced steadily, holding his gaze, a little twinkle in his eyes.

“Are you doing a New Year’s countdown?” 

“8.” 

“You realise that it’s too late-”

“7.”

“Oh my God, you weirdo…” 

“6.” 

Arthur grinned helplessly, wiping a hand over his face - he felt flustered by the attention Merlin was giving him, his blue eyes never once leaving Arthur’s face. Anticipation built in him and he tried to squash it, because Merlin was just being silly and probably would blow a raspberry into his face and he didn’t want to be disappointed. 

“5,” Merlin said sweetly, a grin tugging the corners of his lips upward.

“This is stupid,” Arthur remarked and rolled his eyes. 

Merlin raised his eyebrows at him, conveying clearly what he thought of Arthur’s protest, but kept counting down steadily. “4.”

“Mer _lin_...” Arthur muttered warningly, embarrassed. 

“3.” 

Arthur’s breath caught at the intensity of Merlin’s eyes on him and when Merlin’s tongue came out to swipe over his bottom lip, he might have made a flustered, embarrassed sound. 

“2.” _Was Merlin’s face closer than before?_ Arthur wondered as he stared helplessly at his friend. 

“1. - Happy New Year, Arthur,” Merlin breathed. 

And then he leaned in and kissed him. 

*-* 

_Merlin_

“I can’t believe we’ve wasted 4 years. 4 years!” Merlin muttered mock-angrily into Arthur’s shoulder, his wet fingers slipping on Arthur’s hip as he gripped Arthur’s hipbones and thrust forward, making Arthur sway and groan and clutch at the tiled shower wall. 

“We could have been doing this for 4 years!” Merlin repeated, emphasizing his words by pulling out of Arthur’s body almost all the way, before sliding home with a contended grunt that was echoed roughly by Arthur, who slapped his hand against the tiles and made a mewling, growling sound which sent shivers down Merlin’s spine. 

“Sh...shut up,” Arthur cursed, his voice just as wobbly as his knees. “4 years ago, you hated me,” he groaned, then whimpered when Merlin changed the angle. “Shit, Merlin…” he breathed faintly, sounding just as overwhelmed as Merlin wanted him to be. 

“Hmmm, not true,” Merlin protested, his lips seeking out the side of Arthur’s neck where he lapped water from Arthur’s skin, before sinking his teeth in.

“Keep telling yourself … that,” Arthur groaned, rocking back against him, slick and warm, all hard muscles and soft skin. 

Smothering his laughter in Arthur’s skin, Merlin reached around and gripped Arthur’s heavy cock, delighted when Arthur made desperate, keening noises with every stroke of his hand. 

There was loud knocking at the bathroom door from outside and Lance’s frustrated voice filtered over the sound of the running water. “Stop banging - other people want to take a shower as well!”

“You stop banging!” Merlin called back when the insistent knocking started up again. 

Against him, Arthur convulsed with laughter, his muscles clenching around Merlin’s cock in a way that made Merlin see stars. “Oh shit, oh God,” he moaned and squeezed his eyes shut and then he was coming, bucking into Arthur with a howl until he stopped shaking. 

“Fuck, that was hot,” Arthur whimpered. “I wish I could have seen your face.” 

“Later,” Merlin promised, wincing a bit when he pulled from Arthur’s body, before spinning Arthur around and dropping to his knees on the tiles. 

“Damn, I’ve wanted this ever since you said that first sentence to me,” Arthur slurred, carding a hand through the wet curls on Merlin’s head. His thighs were trembling.

“Posh prat,” Merlin said fondly and reached for Arthur’s cock, giving it a quick stroke, enjoying the answering hitch of Arthur’s breath. 

“Naked guy.” 

Merlin snickered, but ultimately decided there were better, much more rewarding things to do. He ignored the way the water sprayed into his face and closed his mouth over Arthur’s cock, humming at the taste and feel of it. 

“Oh,” Arthur breathed, sliding trembling fingers into Merlin’s hair. 

Merlin gave an encouraging moan, sliding his mouth down, taking more of Arthur’s cock into his mouth. Precome pooled on his tongue and he lapped it up, circling the head of Arthur’s cock, encouraging Arthur to move by sliding his free hand over Arthur’s buttocks and applying pressure. With a groan, Arthur sunk forward, his hips hitching. 

Arthur tasted good, Merlin decided, spicy and salty, and he enjoyed the way his own body still buzzed with his orgasm, a slow flame that was fuelled by the noises spilling from Arthur’s lips as he bucked into Merlin’s mouth with tiny, considerate thrusts. Merlin’s fingers searched out the slick, relaxed opening between Arthur’s buttocks and he curled two of them inside, touching the soft, hot wetness of him, making Arthur release a sharp gasp. 

“Merlin…” he sobbed, shaking when Merlin started to move his fingers, carefully crooking them and feeling around until Arthur’s hips jerked in reaction to finding his prostate and he cried out above him. 

Moaning, Merlin settled on a rhythm of mouth and fingers, feeling the tension of Arthur’s coiled body as he was almost slumped over him, his legs spread as he both tried to find a stance that wouldn’t make him fall over and a position for Merlin to fuck him with his fingers. When Arthur came, it was beautiful. He shook apart, clenching around Merlin’s fingers and spilling over his tongue in brief spurts, Merlin’s name on his lips. 

Gently, Merlin drew back, carefully swallowing around the mouthful of come, his hand slowly stroking Arthur while he shuddered through the aftershocks. 

Above him, Arthur breathed out a laugh, then groaned again when Merlin leaned forward to lick the last of his come from the tip of his cock. “Fuck,” he said. “I just came. How do I want you again as soon as possible?” 

“Give me ten,” Merlin said hoarsely and pushed himself up to his knees. 

Arthur whimpered, then rinsed the both of them down quickly, before pulling Merlin in for a kiss. 

“Mhmmm, you taste like me… oh, for fuck’s sake…” he said with delighted annoyance when he drew back, licking his lips. 

“We should really get out of the bathroom or Lance will kill us,” Merlin suggested, reaching for the faucet to turn off the water. “He was already murderous enough when you gave up on dragging the sled through the snow in favour of tussling me into a snowbank for a snog.” 

They had attempted to go sledding in the early afternoon and when they came back to the cabin, the power supply company had repaired the damage to the powerline and the house was cosy and warm, a fact that had resulted in a run for the two bathrooms. It was a bit of an arsehole move to occupy the bathroom so long, but they had gotten carried away without meaning to. Lance should be glad they had been quick about it.

“Priorities, Merlin,” Arthur said archly and took a towel from the shelf, rubbing it playfully over Merlin’s hair, before wrapping it around him. 

“Ugh, I could get used to this,” Merlin sighed, watching happily as Arthur dried himself off as well, thinking that Arthur’s strong legs, his fit torso and pretty face were his to touch and watch now.

“You will get used to this. And then you’ll find me boring,” Arthur said, wrapping the towel around his hips. 

“Never!” 

Arthur’s lips quirked and he leaned forward to press a quick kiss against Merlin’s mouth, before he ushered him out of the bathroom and across the hall to his room, shoving him towards the bed. 

“Uff,” Merlin huffed when he landed on the rumpled sheets, and grinned when Arthur crawled over him on all fours, then flipped him around. 

Laughing, Merlin found himself face-down in the pillows with Arthur pulling the towel from his hips, exposing his skin to the cool air. 

“I said “ten”,” Merlin laughed, squirming when Arthur started to kiss and lick down his spine with determined single-mindedness.

“Oh, I plan on giving you a lot of time before I let you come again,” Arthur murmured into the small of his back, his fingers cool where they slid between Merlin’s arse cheeks, parting them and blowing his breath warmly against the exposed opening of Merlin’s body. 

“Oh God, you prat,” Merlin moaned, but gave up talking in favour of making embarrassing sounds when Arthur started to eat him out. 

*-* 

_Arthur_

“Here they are - our resident fuckweasles, ladies and gentlemen,” Gwaine said loudly when Arthur and Merlin finally made their appearance in the living room later that day, after having taken another nap and another much needed shower. 

“As if the lot of you found anything better to do what with all the snow outside,” Merlin muttered surly, red creeping up on his face. 

“Seriously, I’m happy for you,” Gwen said, scooting over on the carpet to make space for them near the fire. 

“An end to my suffering,” Morgana said dramatically and raised her glass of champagne to herself. “Four years I’ve watched them make complete fools out of themselves.”

“Not that anything will be different on that front,” Lance pointed out, grinning when Gwen sent him a dirty, exasperated look. 

“We aim to please,” Arthur said and gave a mock-bow, knowing their friends' griping was mostly them being happy for them (and well, maybe they were a little bit annoyed because of the noise, but he couldn’t feel too bad about it). 

“Well, you certainly aimed to please yourself,” Gwaine said wittily, pouring two glasses of champagne, before handing them over to Arthur, failing to mask a wince when he stretched his back. He looked well enough for taking a tumble into a glass table, though, and Merlin had inspected his wounds earlier and found that everything was in order.

“We are very pleased. Very pleased indeed,” Merlin said mock-haughtily, making a couple of people groan and roll their eyes, while the rest snickered good-naturedly.

Arthur rolled his eyes as well and pushed one of the glasses into Merlin’s hands. “If you weren’t completely pleased, I would take it as a personal insult,” he whispered as he leaned over. 

“Oh, so very pleased,” Merlin countered softly, grinning when Arthur pressed a soft kiss underneath his ear. 

Meanwhile, the conversation around them had gone on without them and had gladly stirred towards other topics. Arthur was glad for the end of the teasing, even though it had been predestined, considering they had barely made it out of the bedroom all day. 

“We’ll make this a new tradition,” Morgana was saying, making a round with a champagne bottle, already swaying a bit on her feet, even though it was only 8 o clock. “From here on out, we’re going to celebrate New Year’s Day! Fuck New Year’s Eve - everybody is celebrating New Year’s Eve! When other people will be nursing their hangovers, cursing the 1st of January,, we’ll be celebrating the first wonderful day of the year!” 

“Hear, hear!” Lance said appreciatively, like a knight in an old story, and raised his glass in a toast. 

“To the New Year’s Day Rebellion!” Mithian declared loudly, raising her glass as well. 

“The New Year’s Day Rebellion!” Gwaine echoed and everyone cheered.

“From here on out, we make our own rules and traditions!” Morgana crowed to the excited affirmations of the assembled, stomping through the living room like the born leader she was, topping up every glass, spilling a little as she swayed unsteadily. 

“Do you think they might have been drinking all afternoon already?” Merlin asked, amused as he half-listened to Morgana making up ridiculous regulations for New Year’s Day, most of which consisted of getting blindingly drunk in rather creative ways. 

“I fear they have a headstart on us,” Arthur said, clinking glasses with Merlin, before taking a sip from his own glass. 

“I think we should also make New Year’s Day rules,” Merlin suggested, leaning into him. “Our own rules. Just for the two of us.” 

“Like what?” Arthur asked, intrigued, leaning closer and resting a hand on his boyfriend’s thigh. _Boyfriend._ The thought made him smile. 

Merlin gave him a mischievous grin, his eyes twinkling with merriment. “First of all: We have to get naked.” 

“I like your rules better already. Nobody got naked in Morgana’s rules.” 

“Thought so,” Merlin grinned. “Then we get drunk and snog.” 

“Noted.” 

“Then we fuck.” The word and the way Merlin pronounced it so brazenly sent a shiver through Arthur’s body and he swallowed.

“Agreed,” Arthur muttered hoarsely, blushing a bit at how his head was immediately filled with the images from earlier today, of Merlin beneath him, sweaty and coming all over himself.

“Absolutely nobody gets slapped. But we drink some more,” Merlin continued, and Arthur laughed, finally getting what Merlin was doing. 

“Is this a chronological retelling of how we met?” he asked. 

Merlin didn’t answer his question, but his eyes were twinkling. “And we kiss at midnight.”

“We haven’t kissed at midnight,” Arthur said after a beat, frowning. “I wanted to, but then the power went out and then Gwaine fell into the glass table.” 

Merlin’s lips quirked and he took the glass of champagne out of Arthur’s hand, putting it down behind him on a little side table. 

“We’ll start practicing for next year, okay?” he said softly and leaned in, his lips closing over Arthur’s in a soft, eager kiss. 

“Fuckweasles!” Gwaine shouted, “Here they go again!” 

Arthur felt absolutely no reluctance to flip him the finger behind Merlin’s back. 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your thoughts and comments!


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